My Small Town Essay

The enchanted forest pulsed in, it’s ancient heartbeat, the deep, haunting song sweeping through the swaying leaves. The woody incense of thousands of leaves and branches matting the forest floor filled the air and dominated our nostrils. Soon, the branches will bend to the will of the whispering wind, allowing the sun to fill every nook and cranny with its the lustrous, golden light, illuminating the full grandeur of a forest that is steeped in plushness and opulence. But for now, the sprawling limbs of centuries-old trees still guarded the darkness, blotting out most of the gentle rays of dawn’s light.

Growing up in a small town can lead to one having a very narrow-minded attitude. In a place where almost everyone is the same skin-color, has the same socioeconomic status, and follows the same way of thinking, anyone who fails to conform to the standard can be viewed as an outcast, subject to judgment from those who are looking in. I was someone who fell into this trap. I looked down upon people who were different from me, people who had vastly different ideas, dressed differently, or never tried to perform well in school. I failed to understand or welcome the distinctions between people, and never tried to get to know those who were so different from me.

I love living in a small town, it gives me a sense of guaranteed safety and simplicity.

The tickling sensation of heat bathing his face forced him to slowly open his eyes. The sun’s golden rays stunned him blurring his vision as he quickly turned away. As his eyes adjusted, he was surprised to find the absence of his father. His heart started to pound and all the confidence and security that he had built up melted in the space of a few seconds. He jumped up flinging his sleeping bag on to the ground and looked around taking note of his surroundings. To him, it felt as if the trees were suddenly sent out to attack him like stealthy assassins gaining on him as they moved side to side from the winds steady breeze. The faint noise of bugs and animals chattering sounded like the grunt of a predator before it hunts its prey. A colossal cloud

2. The street in where we live is where the wealthy people live, so it’s not really crowded like in streets of the city. Besides, it’s actually distant from the city.. the noises and the poor. Basically a good place to refresh and rest your minds. To be honest, I’m not really close with our neighbours. They’re rich too and somehow, I always get the feeling they actually pretend to be nice to other people and have this evil back-up plan somewhere in their head. (Which I do not have of course!)

Around my neighborhood, it is considered a quiet and safe zone, but sometimes there are shootings and robberies doing around. Homes around my neighborhood are kept clean and many are apartments. There are various languages spoken when I walk around my neighborhood such as English or Spanish. Also, my neighborhood is pretty quiet, but there have been many incidents are police pass at least 3 times a week to see what’s going on. Also, mostly everyone in my neighborhood own cars and almost everyone has a used car, but for the exception of two or three people own a new car, Living in Long Beach, 90804, I do not see many challenges living here, seeing police take a look around my

Many people say that they “live in a state of terror even when they sleep.” Even though many people are terrified and worn down and scared for their life every day, there are still people who can not leave the city because it is home to

We always lived in apartments, considering the rent and utilities were lower than a house. This meant that I never had a backyard to play in or that I had much privacy. Housing also affected my family’s health as a result of the people living above us making noise at night. The constant noise made it hard to sleep at night. The location of the town that I grew up in was average, in terms of safety and the quality of life it provided the community. However, we were situated next to a town that is well known for gangs, drugs and the occasional shooting. Eventually the accessibility to weed and drugs was there and in high school countless friends smoked and partook in risky behaviors. As well, violence became a safety issue for me when individuals from a neighboring town crossed over to ours looking for trouble. The town we lived in was safe, but we were still surrounded by other towns that were not. Here, the urban environment was structured to segregate us by our race. Most of the North Plainfield population is Hispanic, White and African American, respectively. The conflicts between neighboring towns that had greater African American populations that had turf wars with the Hispanic populations in our town is also something worth mentioning.

I stopped for a moment to get out my flashlight and head lamp before it became pitch black. Light works differently in the woods. There is no light unless it is from the sun or the moon. There are no streetlamps or houses with a light on just, dark. It was absolutely frigid once the sun vanished behind the mountains. I was walking up the road that leads in to the camp. The first that hit me was the smell of rancor, The un-mistakable smell of water mixing with soil. The stream was running strong pushing clear all of the leaves that have drifted down from the trees. The stream was flowed like a small reviver collecting all the water from the rain. I set up my hammock just next to it in-between two towering scrub oak trees with squires flying between them and fell asleep to the sound of the trees talking and the streams

She took a quick look around the last turn before the main street that led to the school. She noticed several boys and girls in the alleyways on both sides of the narrow street. It looked as if every class at her school, several young ladies and even her teacher waited for her in ambush. She ducked back before they could see her, hiked up her dress, and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her in the opposite direction of the angry mob. She didn’t stop until she had found the forest path that she needed and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard no one in pursuit. The forest surroundings felt different for some reason and it frightened her. It had a forbidding feel to it this dawn like she had never felt in the past.

John Updike was born in Shillington, Pennsylvania on March 18, 1932. His father was a high school math teacher who supported the entire family, including his grandparents on his mothers side. As a child, Updike wanted to become a cartoonist because of The New Yorker magazine. He wrote articles and poems and kept a journal. John was an exceptional student and received a full scholarship to Harvard University. At Harvard he majored in English and became the editor of the Harvard newspaper. Upon graduation in 1954, he wrote his first story, Friends from Philadelphia, and sent it to The New Yorker. This started his career and he became one of the great award winning authors of our time.

I grew up in a suburb of Kansas City for most my life. Two years ago I moved with my parents to a very small town where my dad grew up. Growing up in a larger town has shaped the way I act and feel towards people. In the small town I live in now everyone knows everyone, and everyone knows everyone’s business. That was never the case when I was growing up people minded their own business for the most part.

as peaceful as my house right now. One day we were getting home and my dad was opening the door, but it was already open so he asked

When arriving at Tumbledown Mountain, I was surrounded by brown and reddish leaves that were scattered on the ground. The trees around me were filled with luscious, vibrant, green leaves that enchanted my eyes. In addition to the leaves and trees, there was a lot of moss growing on tree stumps that looked like a small blanket covering an infant. Wild, white mushrooms were also growing out of the ground, which gave the ground a pop of color. Taking a step out of the car and onto the leaves, sounded like fire crackling at a camp fire. The sound of the leaves made the hairs on my arm stick up and filled my skin with small goose bumps. At first the smell of the woods was unfamiliar, but I soon got used to it and felt at ease. It felt like I was in my own fantasy where I could escape my troubles and focus on each little detail in the woods.

The sunless sky covered the woods over the treetops which created a canopy over my head. The crimson and auburn foliage was a magnificent sight, as this was the season known as Fall. There was a gentle breeze, creating the single sound of rustling leaves. The leaves appeared as though they were dying to fall out of the tree and join their companions on the forest floor. Together with pine needles and other flora the leaves formed a thick springy carpet for me to walk upon.